


Bugger the Rest of 'em

by DarcyFarrow



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: BFFs, Teenage Dorks, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22377979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyFarrow/pseuds/DarcyFarrow
Summary: Howard's parents advise him to drop the Hoovering Hoodlum; Vince's trendy friends advise dropping the Brown Berk. They're only thinking of the boys' future.
Relationships: Howard Moon & Vince Noir
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Bugger the Rest of 'em

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, my knowledge of Camden slang and the English educational system is woefully limited. Corrections are welcome.

"Sit down, Mr. Moon. Let's talk about your future."  
  
What future? Quipped the voice inside Howard's head, the voice that smarted off on his behalf because he wanted to but couldn't because he wasn't that kind of boy. The voice that was sometimes unintelligible, due to its crusty Southern accent and godawful lowbrow (or so Dad said) slang. What future? You adults already have staked it out for me--none of you asked me--along a well-trod beaten path.  
  
"You're in Year Nine now. What you do now, matters, Mr. Moon. It sets the course for all that's to come. The track of classes you will be assigned to. The study groups you will be invited to join. The uni that you will be admitted to. Even the social activities you will be asked to partake in. The sort of young women you will date. Do you see where I am leading, Mr. Moon? Playtime is over. It's time to situate yourself on the right path. Do you see, Mr. Moon?"  
  
"My marks--"  
  
"Yes, yes, your marks are fine. For now. But there are other factors to consider, Mr. Moon. Your life beyond academics. How you appear to the outside world. Your reputation. And the subtle influence that your associations will have on you."  
  
"I'm, ah, in the Scrabble Club. And I organized the Jazz Club."   
  
"That you did, and a good start. But it's your current social environment of which I speak. Specifically, That Chav lad."  
  
"Who, sir?"  
  
"That Hoodlum whose future path leads through the forest of drugs, the lakes of alcohol, the jungle of crime and the sea of violence. Directly to Hell, to put in plainly, Mr. Moon."  
  
"Sorry, sir?"  
  
"That Noir brat! Are you thick, Mr. Moon, or are you merely losing your hearing due to all that rock and roll he assaults your ears with?"  
  
"With which he assaults your ears." The correction was delivered in a mutter so Sir wouldn't punish him.  
  
"I speak of The Hoodlum who is leading you astray! And if you don't ditch him, smart quick, you'll end up a glue-sniffing, switchblade-wielding, petty criminal like he is!"  
  
"The only knife Vince ever wields is a palette knife. The only glue he's ever sniffed was some Elmer's, when we were five and making collages and he stuck his finger up his nose. The only thing he's ever stolen was the hearts of half the kids in Year Ten. As for petty, the only thing petty about Mr. Noir is the way the teachers here treat him." Uh oh. Howard had said that aloud, hadn't he?  
  
\---  
  
"Sit down, son. Your mum and I need to talk to you."  
  
"It's about a call from your school--"  
  
"More than that. It's about the endangerment of your future."  
  
"Now, we like him, you know we do. Vince is a sweet kid--"  
  
"Too sweet, I always thought."  
  
"Good-natured, gentle--"  
  
"Too gentle. Soft. If you know what I mean."  
  
"Always helping round the house whenever he comes to visit."  
  
"Which is most days."  
  
"Washing dishes, hoovering, a right little housekeeper. Don't think I haven't appreciated."  
  
"Doing your sisters' chores. If you catch my drift."  
  
"But you're teenagers now. You must think of your future. And he isn't it. There's no room on the path to a headmaster's post for, well, frankly, one as thick and lazy as Vince."  
  
"I feel sorry for him. Such a sweet boy but thick as a girder."  
  
"The only job in a school he's set for is pushing brooms."  
  
"He'd do a nice job of it. Running those floor buffers."  
  
“We all know it’s only because of you that he’s got this far. If you hadn’t helped him study--”  
  
“He helped me. It was mutual. I helped him in the humanities. If he hadn’t helped me in art class and PE and math—“  
  
“Nevertheless, he has no future in academics. You’ll see, they’ll throw him out before the end of his first month in sixth form. He’s hardly college material.”  
  
“Croydon. He plans to enroll in Croydon.”  
  
"We're getting off-track. The fact of the matter being, son, for your own sake--"  
  
"You'll see. I mean, he's holding you back, isn't he? The parties you could be asked to in the coming years, the girls who will go out with you."  
  
"The right crowd will lead you to a bright future. Make that your motto, Howard: right to bright."  
  
"You talk like we're the Mountbattens or something. Dad, you're a lower secondary geography teacher."  
  
"And you will surpass me."  
  
"You have a future."  
  
"Whereas Vince. . . .”  
  
“Well, thankfully, he finds hoovering entertaining.”  
  
“You're to stop associating with him. Starting now."  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
"Now don't get upset. I know you'll miss him at first. You'll soon meet others."  
  
"No! I won't let you--"  
  
"You will not speak disrespectfully to your mother."  
  
"You will not speak disrespectfully of my best friend."  
  
"We were too lenient with this boy, Beryl. Never should have let him play with that lad."  
  
"A sweet boy, but--"  
  
"You're not going to stop me."  
  
"Limited. And a bit of a--you know."  
  
"A good little housekeeper though. Nice manners."  
  
"Shut up, both of you! Shut up!"  
  
"Howard!"  
  
"To your room, boy!"  
  
\---  
"Oi, Vin, need to tell y' somefin. Now don' blow y'r cool, man."  
  
"Ol' Vin never loses his cool."  
  
"King of Cool, tha's me."  
  
"Course y'are, Vin. And well fit too."  
  
"Oi, get y'r bloody paws off 'm, Evie, y's my woman."  
  
"Got style, my man do. You're the Teen Prince o' Camden. The Reignin' Royal o' Fashion."  
  
"Which is why we're talkin'. We wanna keep it that way, innit."  
  
"It's like this, Vin: y'know that wanker y' let hang round?"  
  
"Y' talkin' about Howard, y' dick?"  
  
"Wha'ev. That brown berk. Y' need to lose him, man. Ditch 'm, quick smart."  
  
"Wha' y' talkin', Murvy?"  
  
"He's tellin' y' true, Vin. That Howard, he's draggin' y' down, chum. Crampin' y'r style. All that--what y' call it, Evie? That bumpy crap he wears?"  
  
"Corduroy."  
  
"What y' talkin'?"  
  
"Yeah, and all that brown!"  
  
"And them tiny eyes, like a pigeon. He can't be fixed, Vin."  
  
"It's deep down, Vin. He's brown, through and through, brown as dirt. A corduroy soul."  
  
"No fashion a'tall."  
  
"He don' belong, do he?"  
  
"Vin, y' took 'm to the club las' night, right? One look and half of 'em ran out. Thought the club been converted to a ASDA."  
  
"Had to fumigate to get the smell o' corduroy out."  
  
"Shut it. Y' bog roll, y'ain't talkin' trash about my best mate."  
  
"Crampin' y'r style, chum. Draggin' y' down. Another night like las' night, y're dethroned."  
  
"Y' got to lose 'm, man. Look, y' don' have to pals to get a dork to do your homework. Jus' offer to pound 'm like a tough steak if he don'."  
  
"Listen, Vin, we love ya, right? But y' got to know: a journo from Cheekbone took your pic with that Brown Berk. If they publish it, y're finito."  
  
"Y're pleadin' for a ass whoopin', the lot o' ya. Now shut up and I'll pretend I did' t hear none of that shit."  
  
"Vin, we mean it. Y' want to hang with us--"  
  
Shut it!"  
  
\---  
  
"I made extra. Thought you might forget yours again."  
  
"Cheers, Howard. Orange marmalade 'n gummy snakes on pumpernickel, my favorite! You always think of me."  
  
"We're mates, aren't we? Got to look out for my best mate."  
  
"You always did."  
  
"Listen, Vince, I've got to--I'm supposed to tell you something."  
  
"What is it, Howard?"  
  
"They. . . . They want, they demanded. . . .About my future."  
  
"They who? They whom?"  
  
"Never mind. How long have we been mates, Vince?"  
  
"Well, ever since reception. Ever since you taught me to tie my trainers."  
  
"Ever since you taught me to kick a football."  
  
"Ever since you gave Old Mrs. Wingate what-for, for paddling my behind for lying."  
  
"She didn't believe you could talk to animals, 'til you got that family of blue jays to peck off her wig."  
  
"Long time, Howard. Long time we been friends. Have been friends."  
  
"And always will be, yes? No matter the punishment."  
  
"No matter the cost."  
  
"They'll wear down before we will."  
  
"What were you saying about the future, Howard?"  
  
"Never mind. It's a wide road, Vince, broad enough for the likes of you and me both."  
  
"Yeah. Best mates and bugger the rest of 'em."


End file.
